


Godfathers...Sort of

by Iwouldwrite1000fics



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Other, Protectiveness, Queer Themes, Reunions, Trans Warlock Dowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26079271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwouldwrite1000fics/pseuds/Iwouldwrite1000fics
Summary: Warlock seeks out her old nanny in need of some new advice.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 109





	Godfathers...Sort of

Warlock Dowling looked down at the address scrawled on a piece of paper as the bus drove away, comparing it to the one printed on the building’s façade. It was a retro way of finding someone, but she knew better than to take her phone that night. It was one less thing to be tracked with. So shifting the weight of her backpack on her shoulder she went up to the top floor. It should be right she should be here. One didn’t grow up an ambassador’s kid and not know how to work back channels after all.

Still she was nervous if, if she wasn’t here or worse if she didn’t want to see her- it was fine everything would be fine. It had to be. So, she took a deep steadying breath and rang the bell.

A man answered the door. She tried not to let her disappointment show; nanny could have had a brother or be married after all, all hope wasn’t lost just yet.

“Hi, umm…”

“Whatever you’re selling I’m not buying.”

“No, no I’m looking for…well this is going to sound silly, but I’m looking for Nanny Ashtoreth.”

The man said nothing for a moment and Warlock noticed properly that he had dark glasses just like she had. But no it was too much to hope that nanny could ever be like her. Even with the sunglasses, the equally dark outfit, and the flaming red hair.

Meanwhile the man at the door finally managed actual words.

“Well I-er she’s…sorry you haven’t caught me at the best time I-”

He suddenly stopped as he thought he recognized the teenager on his doorstep and looked over the rims of his glasses.

“Warlock?”

“It is you, oh thank god!”

The sixteen year old rushed through the door and hugged him.

“Well I don’t think there’s any reason to be thanking the Misses upstairs for this.”

Crowley returned the hug though as Warlock trembled in the embrace and he felt the collar of his shirt grow damp.

“Well now it, it can’t be as bad as all that.”

He noticed that their backpack was heavy though and a sinking feeling pooled in his stomach at the thought that perhaps it was indeed that bad.

He gently maneuvered Warlock into the kitchen got them seated at the table with tea, everything was better with tea he’d read it in an ad once, and a plate of ginger biscuits, her favourite.

“I’m sorry for just showing up like this. I couldn’t go to my friend’s it’d be the first place they’d look and I don’t want to hear what they have to say.”

Or deal with the fact that I’m so worthless they have nothing to say she thought and ate another biscuit.

Crowley noticed how she was rubbing nervously at the she/her button on her jacket. 

“I called you Warlock I’m sorry if that’s not-”

“No, no it’s fine I haven’t actually picked anything else yet. I didn’t even ask you yours now.”

“Crowley. Anthony J. Crowley and don’t worry about the pronouns I consider myself more fluid if you really want to put a label on it, but it’s not about me right now,” he said, reaching over running his thumb over the beginnings of a bruise under her eye.

“Oh no, it’s not what you think.”

“What should I think then?”

“This was my fault. See I’ve taken up rugby and they tell me I’m…competitive. Well I mean if you’re not going to crush the other team under your heel what’s the point, right?”

Crowley smiled with pride.

“And it’s good or at least it was. You know my dad was always watching sports, tracking players, it was the classic all American thing. You should have seen him smile when I told him I made the team last year. He went to all my games and then he started taking me to others. It was something we could like together. It was nice that he finally seemed to like me for me and not just as a photo-op accessory for his job.”

“But?”

She sighed running a hand through her hair. “It took me a long time to stop lying to myself, but when I did I had support. There’s a club for this sort of thing now. I mean my mom didn’t bat an eye when I baked rainbow cupcakes to take with me to their bake sale! I-I thought it would be okay.”

“What happened?”

“When I told them I made the team this year I…I said I had tried out for the women’s team.”

She sunk down in the chair letting her hair fall into face.

“It-it didn’t go well.”

“Well then you’ve come to the right place. I know a bookseller who keeps in touch with the community, not my scene, but he’ll have resources for you.”

With that Crowley grabbed his phone and called a familiar number.

“Hello?”

“Wonderful you haven’t left yet slight chance of plans I need you to meet me at the museum café.”

“Why?”

“Got an old friend, good friend-good friend I promise-with me.”

***

Aziraphale hurried towards the café as a hundred dreadful scenarios whirled through his brain. Crowley said it wasn’t serious like that, but he worried anyway; old habits and all that. It was all for nothing though as he approached the table and saw that indeed it wasn’t someone from either of their former sides.

Crowley was there, slumped in his chair in a way that would wreck a regular human’s spine. The child sitting opposite him though, and they were still a child, was still a bit of shock as Aziraphale recognized them. The one they had worked so hard to keep from both heaven and hell. A bit taller now and less wide eyed with hair hastily dyed a vibrant variety of colours, but still he knew them and smiled brightly.

“Warlock.”

They both looked at him and smiled back.

“Hey, Angel.”

“Hey, you were that rubbish magician at my 11th birthday party.”

Aziraphale flushed at the memory.

“Suppose I was. It’s wonderful to see you again.”

He joined them before taking note of the time.

“But whatever are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

Warlock glanced down.

“Well Smeltings is still considered a boy’s school and I’m…not.”

Aziraphale's face fell in understanding.

“Right now we’re all she’s got, Angel.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Warlock shrugged. “Yeah, well life sucks and then you die right?”

Aziraphale wasn’t about to stand for that. “Oh no, my dear child, that attitude will never do. First we are going to get lunch and then we can go over some literature I’ve brought with me if you’d like. We can get this sorted to your comfort I’m sure.”

***

Lunch as it turned out was surprisingly comfortable. They actually wanted to know things about her so she gushed about rugby and her friends around bites of chips. They were also comfortable to be around. Seeing Crowley giving over his dessert to Aziraphale and the soft smile the gesture received was affirming to her. Not wanting to part ways so soon she asked to look around at the exhibits and they agreed.

They were currently giving a critical eye to a depiction of Adam and Eve, with the wrong skin tone Aziraphale noted, but what intrigued Warlock was the naga curled around the tree, an apple in her outstretched hand.

“What is it?”

“An interpretation of the garden.”

“No, I mean her,” she said, pointing to the naga.

“Oh, that’s Lilith,” Crowley responded.

“Lilith?”

“Yeah, Adam’s first wife, the one who would not submit to him. Some call her the serpent who could not be tamed.”

Warlock titled her head at it. “I’ve never heard of that before.”

“Well it’s only one interpretation among many,” Aziraphale supplied. 

“I think it’s a rather accurate rendering,” Crowley said, smiling at the locks of red hair that flowed around her face.

Aziraphale glared at him. “You would.”

Warlock ignored the banter, focusing again not on the composition, but the name that accompanied her.

“Lilith,” she said again, testing the name on her lips and then smiled. “I like it.”

***

That night found her thinking over the name still as she twisted around in the bed sheets and stared up at the ceiling of the guest room Crowley had insisted she take until other arrangements could be made.

She glanced over to her backpack that she’d left by the door. Just in case. They said she was safe here, but what if…what if they changed their minds? It had already happened after all.

Dad was always finding things more important than her. She thought they had finally found something to bond over and then she had to go and ruin it by being wrong. She buried her face in a pillow trying to block out his last words as they echoed in her mind.

“I don’t care what you do.”

It shouldn’t matter. He had never been there anyway. So it didn’t matter now.

Expect it did.

She at last gave up on sleep and wandered down the hall finding the TV on and the two of them on the couch.

“You all right?” Crowley asked.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

They shifted over without another word and she sat down. It was silent for a while as they sat there comfortably, watching four older ladies eat cheesecake.

“Why are you doing all this for me?” she eventually asked.

“It’s what we’re here for.” Crowley declared.

“And we’ll be here as long as you need us.”

“Yeah, but why? I’m just some kid you looked after once.”

Crowley gave a dismissive sniff. “You act as if I didn’t enjoy it.”

“And I consider it a point of pride to help those in need. There comes a time when we all must be true to ourselves no matter how others may judge us, and banishing one’s children for not being who you want them to be is not a loving act.”

He locked eyes with Crowley as he said that and squeezed his hand.

“Not from Her not from anyone.”

It was another firm reminder that they were like her and they’d done this too.

“Does it get easier?”

Crowley thought about that for a bit. “You learn to build you own life. It hurts for a while, sometimes always, but it’s worth it.”

It wasn’t quite what she wanted to hear, but life didn’t always have easy answers she knew that now. Still it was nice not to be alone for it.

She settled then her eyes drifting closed as the world suddenly seemed warm and heavy.

“Sleep and dream of whatever it is you like best.”

She dreamed of a cottage that smelled like the roses that Brother Francis used to grow in the garden, the lyrics of Queen drifting in from an opened window and she felt safe.

The End


End file.
